


Only Mysteries Worth Solving

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, I don't know what I'm doing, but hopefully it turns out well, cross-over, feels probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Put together a time-traveling alien, a young woman who's died and been reborn a few times, Earth's mightiest heroes, and a prisoner wanted on several planets. Shake well. </p><p>Or the story of how the Doctor, while working on the mystery of Clara, stumbles upon Loki and takes him back to Earth, where everyone is a little bit wary of aliens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this! More to come!

As far as Time Traveling Machines went, the Doctor felt that the TARDIS was the best. And not because it looked like a blue police call box, the sort that was once popular in London. Not because it was bigger on the inside, even though that was particularly useful. Not because it took him through space as well as time (even if, sometimes, to the wrong space and time). No, the TARDIS was the best because it—well, she, really—was alive. The reason she sometimes went to the wrong space and time was because she felt the Doctor needed to be there. And, in hindsight, she was usually right. 

The Doctor had been doing this for hundreds of years, and yet he never got tired of seeing his companions react to traveling through time and space in a time machine that defied all human logic and physics. Currently his companion was a small female by the name of Clara Oswin Oswald. She had a round face, brown hair and brown eyes, and she looked the picture of an ordinary, if petite, young woman from London. 

Except she wasn’t. 

Clara Oswin Oswald had also existed in Victorian Times, and in the future as a girl named Oswin trapped inside the body of a Dalek who liked to make soufflés. This present-day Clara, the only one who hadn’t died so far after meeting the Doctor, also liked to make soufflés, but that wasn’t important. 

The important part was that Clara Oswin Oswald had been reborn several times, and the Doctor had no idea why. She didn’t seem particularly important, or special. He hoped that they weren’t somehow related. Having family with companions got tricky. 

At this moment in time Clara was leaning against the railing of the control room as the Doctor whirled about, piloting the TARDIS to a new destination with more flair than was strictly necessary to pilot the TARDIS, but it made everything a bit more fun, especially when someone was watching. And Clara did watch with a small grin on her face, as if she couldn’t quite believe this was her life. 

“Clara!” the Doctor cried, twirling around the console. “Where do you think we’ll go next?”

“You tell me,” Clara said. 

“All of time and space and you have no idea?” 

“Can you narrow it down a bit?” 

“Sure,” the Doctor checked his monitor. “How about Pluto three thousand years from now?” 

“Pluto’s not a planet,” Clara remarked. 

The Doctor gave her a serious look. “That’s what they want you to believe.” 

“Who?” 

The Doctor didn’t answer her and continued checking various components of the console. Clara leapt off the railing and walked up to him. “Who wants us to believe that?” 

“Pluto,” the Doctor answered. 

Clara opened her mouth, presumably to say that planets or non-planets that could have been planets couldn’t possibly make people believe things when the TARDIS lurched horribly, and then lurched again, until it was tossing the Doctor and Clara to the ground and all over the place. Clara grabbed on to the railing as she slid by, and the Doctor held onto the mouthpiece of a phone attached to the center console, which didn’t really help keep him in one place. After a few jarring moments, the TARDIS came to a stop. 

“I don’t think we’re in Pluto,” the Doctor said. 

Clara stood up, straightening her dress. There was a run in her tights. The Doctor fixed his bow-tie and strode towards the door. 

“What if it’s dangerous?” Clara asked. 

The Doctor gave her a Look. Clara laughed and ran towards him. 

“Ready?” he asked. “Not-Pluto, here we come!” 

He thrust open the doors. 

“Doctor,” Clara whispered. 

“I think,” the Doctor said, “we’re on a ship.” 

Approximately ten humanoid alien figures, looking like they were made up of a combination of gray, slimy flesh and metal technology framing their skeletons, all raised futuristic guns towards the Doctor and Clara. 

“Bad time?” the Doctor asked. “I’m the Doctor! Just passing through, really, made a wrong turn somewhere near Neptune and the year, uh, 4050, and who are you?” 

“We are the Chitauri,” the leader hissed, stepping forward. It had the biggest gun. 

“Oh, excellent,” the Doctor said. To Clara he added, “the Chitauri are a race of aliens known for their war-like nature and collective psychic abilities, and they reside in the deepest parts of space. Some of them can even be found in the Void.” 

“What’s the void?” Clara asked. “Are we in the void?” 

“No,” the Doctor said. “If we were in the Void we’d know. The TARDIS likely would be dead, for one thing. No, we’re still in our universe. I think.” 

“Our universe,” Clara repeated. “Are you saying there’s others? Other universes? Like, parallel universes? Like there’s another Clara Oswin Oswald out there?” 

The Doctor gave her a strange look and then turned back to the aliens. “Chitauri,” he said, “I don’t know how we ended up on your ship. Is anything wrong? If there is nothing you need from us, let us go in peace.” 

“Why should we let you go?” the Chitauri leader asked. “You could be of use.” 

“Um, no.” The Doctor help up his hands. “Got nothing, no weapons, just me and a human girl. Totally completely not useful.” 

“Bind them,” the leader commanded. The Chitauri started to move when an explosion rocked the ship, sending everyone off-balance. 

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “You are in trouble. We can help.” 

“You cannot possibly help,” the leader snapped. Another explosion rocked the ship. Suddenly, the leader cried out, “To the navigation center, now! Kill the prisoner on sight.” And they left. 

The Doctor looked at Clara. “There’s a prisoner,” he said. “We should find them.” 

“They have guns,” Clara pointed out. “They could shoot us. And the prisoner could kill us. What’re we going to do with a prisoner?” 

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s an adventure!” He ran off. 

Clara groaned before following him. 

 

The ship was dark, with few sources of light, and everything seemed to be made of black rock. The walls were jagged, and every time a tremor rocked the ship the Doctor and Clara risked cutting themselves on the walls. The floors were even, for the most part, which was a blessing, because the Doctor seemed keen to run. 

He used the sonic screwdriver when they found themselves hopelessly lost away from the TARDIS, and from the Chitauri. The Doctor’s face lit up when the sonic discovered something that was, apparently, more exciting than an alien ship made of rocks. 

“What is it?” Clara asked. 

“A different source of energy,” the Doctor said, walking quickly down the corridor. “The Chitauri give off one source but this is completely different—it comes from within whoever this is. Or whatever this is. It’s powerful.” 

They broke out into a run again, trotting down the corridor and turning corners until the Doctor ran into a room and stopped dead, Clara crashing into his back. 

“What—“ she started, but stopped when she saw what the Doctor was looking at. 

Bodies. Dozens of Chitauri, dead, mangled, burnt, or otherwise hurt in a variety of gruesome ways. Clara had seen her fair share of terrible things during her time with the Doctor but it was never any less shocking. She was a girl from London. She wasn’t meant to see these sorts of things. 

“This must be our prisoner,” the Doctor muttered. “His calling card.” 

“Why’d he do this?” Clara asked. “Revenge?”

“That could be a good reason,” the Doctor said. “Why do they imprison people? Who is this prisoner?” 

“Who are you?” rasped a voice from the shadows. 

The Doctor whirled to face one of the dark corners of the room, Clara turning with him. The light of the sonic screwdriver caught the pale face of a young man with long, tangled black hair. He looked gaunt. From the glow, they could see that his clothing was in tatters and there were blood stains, which may or may not have been his. 

“I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor told him, carefully. “Who are you?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” the man hissed. “I am no one.” 

“Why did you kill them?” Clara asked. 

The man laughed, though his voice was hoarse and it devolved into coughing. “They deserve worse.” 

“No one deserves that,” the Doctor snapped. 

“You think so?” The man moved forward, revealing himself more as he moved towards the light. He was too thin, and some of the blood was definitely his. “I deserve it. I deserved everything they did to me, so they tell me, until the end of time. But why should I take it? Why can’t I take my revenge? This is my only way out, Doctor, and I will not let you stand in my way.” 

From seemingly nowhere, he brandished a throwing knife. The Doctor held up his hands in a gesture of peace, and Clara did too. “Now hold on,” he said, “what happened? Why did they imprison you? What did they do?” 

The man shuddered and licked his lips. But he remained silent. 

“Okay, you don’t want to tell me, fine,” the Doctor said. “Who are you?” 

Again, silence. 

“Just a name,” Clara prompted. “What’s your name?” 

“Loki,” the man answered, finally. 

“Excellent,” Clara smiled at him. “I’m Clara. And he already introduced himself but he was rude and didn’t bother to include me. Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t actually reach out to shake his hand because he still held a knife. 

“Okay,” the Doctor said, clapping his hands together. “Okay, we have some options here. We can’t let you kill everyone on this ship because I don’t want to do that, but you can’t stay here. We can take you somewhere safe. Where’s your home?” 

Loki stared at him as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word. 

“Okay,” the Doctor repeated, more slowly. “Where do you want to go?” 

“I’ve activated an explosive weapon on the ship,” Loki said. “It will go off in five minutes.” 

“Why would you do that?’ the Doctor cried, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay, fine. Plan B, we get back to my ship, I give you a stern talking-to-“

Cries from the hallway interrupted his train of thought. 

“Chitauri,” Clara said. “They’re coming. We can’t get back.” 

Loki grabbed the Doctor by the shoulder. “Where are you taking me?” he asked, roughly. 

“I—um—we didn’t decide this yet—“ 

“Where?” Loki placed the knife to his neck. 

“The TARDIS!” the Doctor cried. 

“What?” 

The Doctor fumbled with his sonic screwdriver. If he could call the TARDIS to him, they would be saved. The sounds of Chitauri yelling got closer. The Doctor could feel Loki’s knife pressing into his neck, threatening. He activated the proper setting on the sonic. 

The groaning sound of an engine filled the room. Loki let go, the knife disappearing, to look around. A wind picked up, and the interior walls of the TARDIS began to fade in-and-out around them. Loki suddenly snarled as one of the Chitauri invaded their space. Then the walls solidified, and the Chitauri soldier attacked. 

Loki lunged at it with his knife in one hand and a spear that looked like it was made of ice in another. Clara couldn’t help but watch. The Doctor fiddled with the controls, going for speed rather than flair this time, as banging started up on the walls outside. 

“Can they get in?” she asked. 

“No, but I’d rather get out,” the Doctor said. 

With a savage cry, Loki thrust his ice-spear through the Chitauri’s chest and it slumped to the ground, bleeding out. Clara stared at him as he turned to her, the ice spear disappearing. The knife had gone already. 

For a moment they stared at each other. Clara looked into Loki’s blue-green eyes and saw something she very rarely saw, except sometimes in the Doctor—a truly haunted look. Loki had been through something, and seen something, and the Chitauri had to do with it, and it changed him. She could tell from that look. It made him what he was, and whatever that was, he didn’t like it. It drove him to kill the Chitauri with not a thought for what else he could have done. It drove him to fight for his very survival, to put a knife to the Doctor’s neck and demand what they were doing. 

“I’m sorry,” Clara said. 

Loki’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed into a boneless heap. 

By now the TARDIS had started moving and the Doctor turned to the rest of them, saw Loki and the dead Chitauri on the floor, and sighed. 

“He killed him with a spear made of ice,” Clara told him. “And then it just disappeared. Like magic.” 

“A different kind of science, but highly advanced, more in tune with the physics of the universe,” the Doctor muttered. Then he added, “I’ll clean him up, and the Chitauri, you can, um, just relax for now.” 

“Can’t I help?” 

“Do you have any medical training?” 

“No.” 

“Then it might be best for you to stay out of the way. Bond with the TARDIS.” The Doctor gestured towards the bodies. “I’ll take care of these.” 

“He needs help,” Clara said. 

“He does,” the Doctor agreed. “And we can.” He walked over to Loki’s body and checked for a pulse; one was still there, if weak. “Loki. Who are you?” 

While the Doctor took Loki off to the infirmary (and she didn’t even know that the TARDIS had one), Clara checked the monitor. 

It was in a different language with circular writing. If that was even a thing. 

She asked the TARDIS, “where are we going?” 

The TARDIS shook in response. From the other room, the Doctor called out, “Don’t upset her!” 

Clara rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you just be mature? I never did anything to you.” 

The TARDIS didn’t respond. However, ten minutes later a destination in English appeared on the monitor screen. 

New York City, 2013.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony Stark considered December to be an excellent time for a vacation. Not just December; the year was full of excellent times for vacations, but December had Christmas and New Year’s in it, so that made everything a lot more vacation-y. 

The Avengers had just gotten used to living together in Stark Tower, and this would be their first holiday season together. They managed to get through the Fourth of July perfectly fine, although many jokes were had at Steve’s expense. Halloween was interesting if only because they decided to go as each other in combat-wear, and somehow Tony got stuck wearing a version of Natasha’s catsuit. Thor, meanwhile, had no idea what Halloween was and ended up painted green and wearing purple shorts because no one else wanted to be the Hulk, and he took it in stride even when people at the Halloween party whispered and pointed out that blonde hair and green skin really, really did not go well together. 

And they had been busy fighting villainy (people who wanted to mess with the world; they weren’t restricted to New York City) and their first few weeks had been spent cleaning up New York from the Chitauri invasion. Then other criminals popped up, and somehow they became a well-oiled machine. 

SHIELD still monitored them, and helped with the clean-up, which consisted of making civilians forget things they shouldn’t have seen or, in most cases, compensation for things that happened to them. Plus, Nick Fury and Agent Coulson, recovered from his chest wound, both gained perverse pleasure in having the Avengers put in public appearances with children and at events to keep up the public moral and distract from the fact that there actually existed an agency that dealt with Area 51 level shit. 

On this particular day in December, Tony was trying to program a Christmas playlist into his computer system to play every time someone mentioned the word “Christmas” as a sort of prank when Fury called. 

“What is it?” Tony asked. 

“Assemble the team, Stark.” Fury was not playing around. His one eye glared at Tony mercilessly. “We have a mysterious appearance on the top of Grand Central Station. We don’t know if it is hostile, but we would rather have you take care of it now.” 

“Fine. JARVIS, assemble the team. Tell them to meet me at Grand Central Station…now.” 

“Yes, sir,” the AI said. 

Tony went off to put on his suit and flew to Grand Central in less than ten minutes, which was more than acceptable. Fury should have given him a gold star. 

However, Tony found himself, for the first time in a long time, surprised when he got there. 

Sitting on top of Grand Central Station was a blue police call box. 

“Fury,” Tony said into his suit’s communications device, “you didn’t tell me we important England. Is this a joke?” 

“Not a joke, Stark. Find out why the box is there.” 

Tony rolled his eyes and flew over to the box, landing on the roof of Grand Central. He scanned it with the suit and JARVIS informed him that the readings on the device were coming in scrambled, which was fascinating, for a phone box. 

Unsure of what to do, Tony took the most prudent course of action. He knocked on the door. 

He only half expected it to open. And he did NOT expect a young woman with brown hair wearing a dress to answer. She looked at him and she smiled. 

Tony asked, “What are you doing in there?” 

“Lots of things,” she replied. She sounded English. “Where are we, anyway?” 

“New York City.” 

“I know that, but where exactly in New York City?” 

“On top of Grand Central Station.” 

The young woman frowned, muttered, “Oh dear” and then shouted inside, “Doctor, your parking needs work!” 

From inside, he heard a man’s voice call out, “Where are we?” 

“Top of Grand Central, 2013. It is 2013, right?” 

“Right,” Tony answered, confused. Vaguely he became aware of someone talking in his ear, asking him what was going on and whether the box was a threat. It might have been Cap. He ignored it in favor of looking past the woman into the call box, which seemed to have a lot of light and depth for something so…small. 

“Who are you?” the woman asked him. 

“Tony Stark,” he replied, craning his head to get a better look. The woman blocked him and stuck out her hand. 

“I’m Clara,” she said. “Clara Oswald. Pleasure.” 

He shook her hand. “This is great and all, but, um, you’re kind of not allowed to be up here. Can I come in? I need to know what’s up with this box. I can’t get a reading on it, didn’t even know there were people in it, and apparently there’s two of you.” 

“Three,” Clara corrected him. “Four, if you count the dead…alien.”

“Hold on—did you say dead alien?” 

Suddenly a man dressed in tweed and a bow-tie, with very floppy brown hair appeared next to Clara and leaned out the door. “Pleasure to meet you, glad to see you’ve met my lovely companion. I’m the Doctor.” 

“Great. That’s great. Can I come in?” 

The Doctor and Clara exchanged a look. 

Tony took a deep breath. “Look , I have back-up on the way. We kind of help save this city from unusual things that the police can’t deal with. And, you know, the rest of the world. They call us the Avengers.” 

The Doctor smiled. “That’s brilliant! Super-heroes. Isn’t that brilliant, Clara?” 

Clara grinned back. “Definitely brilliant.” 

“Anyway,” Tony continued, “we’re partnered with SHIELD, which is—“

“Oh, I know who they are,” the Doctor said, rolling his eyes. “Luckily they haven’t met me yet, that would send them wild. Although I guess, now…” 

“Why are you here?” Tony asked. 

“We needed a place to touch down and assess our next move,” the Doctor said. “You see, we got into a situation and ended up with two extra passengers, one of whom is dead, and we kind of need to figure out how to deal with that.” 

“Maybe we can help,” Tony said. He could hear the quinjet engine behind him. Into his earpiece he muttered, “Standby. I got this.” 

“What are you doing, Stark?” Natasha asked. 

“Negotiating.” 

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. “The thing is, this machine is special. This is my baby. My TARDIS. If you help us I don’t want you touching her.”

Tony nodded. “My tower is neutral ground. SHIELD can help if I ask them to, but they’re not in charge. If you take everything there we can figure out what to do about your guests. And you’ll like it. Ever been here before?” 

“Many times in many times,” the Doctor said. 

“No,” said Clara. 

Tony grinned. “Excellent.” To his team he said, “Head back to the tower and meet me on the top floor. Now.” To the Doctor he said, “I need your word that you’ll appear at the top floor of my tower in five minutes.” 

“You’re just letting them get away?” Clint asked. Tony had forgotten that they could hear everything. 

“He seems nice,” he answered. 

The Doctor stuck out his hand. “I give you my word.” 

Tony shook it. “Excellent. See you soon.” 

“Did you really just--?” 

“Shut it, Clint.” 

The Doctor and Clara disappeared inside the blue box and Tony flew back to the Tower. 

When he got there, Natasha walked up to him and opened her mouth, presumably to yell at him because he’d let two mysterious people in a blue box get away, but a groaning mechanical noise filled the air and she was unable to finish. Tony turned; towards the center of the room a blue box was phasing in and out of view, becoming more and more solid until, finally, it stopped making noise and remained solidly in place. 

“Told you,” Tony said to Natasha. 

Natasha glared at him. “I’ve contacted SHIELD,” she told him. 

“Of course you have.” 

The door swung open and the Doctor emerged. “Have you an infirmary?” he asked. 

“What’s your name?” Natasha asked. 

“The Doctor.” 

Natasha folder her arms. “That isn’t a name, it’s a title.” 

“Not in my case,” the Doctor said. “My parents were weird, also, I’m not from this planet. You’re familiar with aliens, are you not?” 

They all glanced at Thor. 

Thor said, “I am indeed not human.” 

“You’re not one of me, either,” the Doctor said, waving him off. “Anyway, we’ve got a dead alien species in there and a live…male. He’s not human but, um, yeah. All we got.” 

“What kind of alien?” Natasha asked. 

“The dead one is a…Chitauri, I believe,” the Doctor said. Everyone in the room visibly stiffened, and there were a few audible gasps. And Clint whispered, “Fuck!” 

“I take it you’ve heard of them,” Clara observed. 

“Yeah we’ve heard of them,” Clint snapped. “Those fuckers nearly destroyed Manhattan.” 

“That wasn’t in my database of ‘Things That Happen to New York City’,” the Doctor muttered. He seemed genuinely put out by this. 

“Well it’s definitely in ours,” Tony said. “What about the other guy?” 

“Um. Good question,” the Doctor said. “Some sort of humanoid cold…thing.” 

“He looks like you,” Clara added. “Not exactly like you but I mean human. He looks human.” 

“Can you bring them out here?” Tony asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Are they really in that small thing?” Clint asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Can we help you?” Natasha asked. 

Clara and the Doctor looked at each other. A moment passed. The Doctor pointed to Tony. “You. Only you. No one else.”

“He doesn’t trust you,” Clint muttered to Natasha as Tony stepped forward. 

What happened next could only be described as a mindfuck. Tony stepped into a police call box, unsure how four bodies could possibly fit, when the area opened up into a cavernous console room full of light. There were no lights in phone boxes, he didn’t think. There certainly wasn’t just a phone. 

“This is physically impossible,” Tony said, staring at, well, everything. “I know. I’ve tried. If I could get my suit to be in a space smaller than my suit then, well, that would be awesome. It’s pretty bulky. How do you do this?” 

“Advanced science,” the Doctor said. “Follow me.” 

Tony walked up the ramp and around the console towards a hallway—“There are fucking hallways!”—and into another room, where the first thing that caught his eye was the body of a Chitauri, annoyingly recognizable despite having been months since the invasion. 

Lying on one of the cots was mindfuck #2. 

“Sonofabitch,” Tony hissed. 

Clara appeared next to him. “D’you know him?” 

“That fucker was the leader of the Chitauri. He tried to take over this world.” 

“That’s weird,” the Doctor said. 

“His name is Loki,” Clara supplied. 

“I know,” said Tony. “Motherfucker.” 

“What now?” Clara asked. 

“SHIELD wants his head,” Tony explained. “He was supposed to be in Asgard, but he’s not. Where’d you find him?” 

“On a Chitauri ship as a prisoner,” the Doctor said, “but I think he was in the process of escaping. Or destroying the ship.”

Loki was still unconscious. Which was a blessing, really. 

“Okay. Okay.” Tony took a deep breath. “Here’s what we do. Um. Everyone out there wants to kill him. We can’t hand him over to SHIELD. Well, okay, everyone except Thor. Um. I can lock him in a guest room. He looks a bit rough.” This last bit came after the shock of seeing Loki had worn off and was replaced with some observations. Mainly that Loki didn’t look good. He looked, well, like a pretty mistreated prisoner. 

“I’ll carry the Chitauri,” the Doctor said. “I assume you’ll want to analyze it.” 

“We had plenty of those, actually,” Tony said. “I think you can keep it.” 

The Doctor looked at the Chitauri with distaste but didn’t say anything else. Tony and the Doctor managed to hoist Loki’s body between them and Clara went ahead of them. “Gonna warm up the crowd,” she explained. 

They went to the door. Clara opened it and said, “Okay, so this person is apparently some cause for alarm, but I ask you all to remain calm because we have a plan. And it’s a good plan. Just…no killing anyone.” 

Tony and the Doctor nudged their way through the door, at which point every single one of the Avengers, including Steve but excluding Thor, cursed. Thor let out a cry of disbelief. 

“He escaped?” Clint yelled. 

“I was not informed!” Thor cried. “Loki, my brother!” 

Loki did not respond because he was unconscious. 

“We’re going to lock him in a guest bedroom,” Tony said, raising his voice above everyone else’s. “He was apparently imprisoned by the Chitauri.” 

“Why keep him around?” Bruce asked. He looked ruffled but not yet ready to burst out into an angry green rage frenzy, which was good. 

“We could use him,” Natasha murmured. 

“Clearly it’s our responsibility because Asgard couldn’t handle it,” Clint snapped. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony said. “We can’t just let him go and we don’t even know what’s going on. It’s better this way. Maybe if we let him rest here he’ll, I don’t know, not kill us all. Or at least take over some other planets.” 

“Not Earth,” Steve said. “I don’t know…” 

“It’s a great plan,” Tony said. “Deal with it.” 

More protests seemed forthcoming. The Doctor held up a hand. “I’ll help. For the duration of the time he’s here.” 

“Why should we trust you?” Clint asked. “What’s your name?” 

“The Doctor.” 

“See?” 

“You know things,” Natasha said. 

The Doctor smiled at her. “Yes, I do. So does everyone.” 

“Beyond what we know,” Natasha said. “That technology is way beyond anything we’ve seen before. It’s bigger on the inside.” 

“Wait—you didn’t even go inside,” Tony said. 

“I saw when you opened the door.” 

“Look.” Tony shifted Loki’s weight. “I’d love to have this conversation when there isn’t an unconscious criminal on my arm. Deal with it. We’ll talk later. You can yell at me after I’ve had a few drinks.” 

With this pronouncement, Tony led the way to one of the guestrooms.


End file.
